


Scars Among Friends

by RegulusLupin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 05:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18309539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegulusLupin/pseuds/RegulusLupin
Summary: Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy is in Azkaban, his mother is grieving, friends and family are buried, and Draco gets an exhausted visitor.





	Scars Among Friends

The courtyard was littered with witches and wizards, reconnecting with friends, family. Grieving loved ones lost in the Battle. Searching for those still missing. There was a fog of tension and mourning, but of relief and even joy. As the trio made their way through the crowd, searching for their families, shouts of gratitude, of celebration reached their ears. Harry flinched as raucous laughter erupted from somewhere nearby, and felt Hermione squeeze his fingers.  
“You okay, Harry?” She whispered.  
“Fine, yeah.” Harry nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a familiar glint of silver blonde hair. Malfoy and his mother, huddled together. His father would have been carted off by the Ministry already for questioning. Harry felt the hawthorn wand weighing heavily in his back pocket. “You guys go on. I'll meet up with you later.”  
Ron and Hermione gave him a quick hug, and left to join the Weasleys. Harry swallowed hard, unsure of the wisdom of his next move. But he owed his life to Draco and Narcissa Malfoy. He needed to say something. He may not get the chance again.  
“Malfoy.” He said as he approached. He saw Draco flinch before he raised his head. His face was smeared with blood and soot. He had been sitting with his hands clasped, elbows resting on his knees, bent over like he was going to be sick. Harry knew the feeling.  
“...Potter.” Draco said, his eyes weary.  
“I came to thank you.” Harry pulled Draco's wand from his back pocket, looking at it one last time, before offering it to its original owner. “I don't know if it'll work for you like it did before, but...it's yours.”  
Draco took the wand, his hands shaking from exhaustion. Several emotions crossed his face at once, as if he couldn't quite decide which he felt more strongly.  
“Thanks.” He murmured, slipping the wand into his pocket.  
“Mrs. Malfoy.” Harry turned to the lovely blonde woman next to Draco. She had been watching silently, and seemed surprised when Harry addressed her. “Thank you.”  
He hesitated, taking a step closer, and then wrapped his arms around her, his head resting on her shoulder. Narcissa made a small sound and then embraced the young wizard back. He was the same height as her son, and smelled like sweat and blood. She hugged him fiercely.  
“No, Mr. Potter. Thank you.” She said when they broke apart. She laid a hand on her son's shoulder. Her deep blue eyes glinted with unshed tears as she looked down at her son's thin face. “Thank you.”  
“I should go.” Harry said, shoving his hands in his empty pockets. He turned to leave, eyes searching for red hair amongst the crowd.  
“Potter.” Draco called out. Harry turned and was suddenly engulfed in Draco's arms. Harry looked over Draco's shoulder, his mother politely turning away, as Draco began to sob. “I'm sorry, Potter.”  
“That's alright, mate.” Harry held Draco for a long moment, both too exhausted for words. “Its over.”  
“It's over.” Draco repeated the words, scarcely able to believe them. He stepped away, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He looked Harry in the eye with a smirk. “You tell anyone about this, and I'll kill you, Potter.”  
“Your secrets safe with me.” Harry grinned, offering his hand. Draco shook it, and turned to leave.  
“If you need a break from the publicity, you're always welcome at the Manor.” Draco said. “I can promise you'll find it more hospitable than your last stay.”  
“I'll take you up in that sometime.” Harry smiled. “Take care, Draco.”

 

“Draco?” his mother's voice startled him, and he jumped, banging his elbow on the desk. “Sorry, dear.”  
“It's alright.” Draco tried to smile, rubbing his elbow.  
“You have a visitor.” Narcissa said. “Harry Potter.”  
“Send him up.” Draco said, straightening up, and reaching up a hand to smooth down his hair nervously. He hadn't seen Harry in months, aside from a glimpse here and there at funerals. And of course, every single day in the Prophet, the dark circles under his eyes growing heavier, darker. Draco knew the feeling. He had hardly been able to sleep for the nightmares. And it seemed every waking moment was devoted to the care of the Manor, his grieving mother, and discussions with the Ministry over settling his father's crimes. Draco was exhausted. He couldn't imagine how the Boy Who Lived was handling life post-war.  
Harry entered the study- _the_ , and not _his_ because the study had been his father's and it still didn't feel like it belonged to Draco. He didn't think it ever would. Harry Potter looked exhausted. His hair, always unruly, was growing longer, pulled back in a small ponytail, with loose strands framing his face. He had lost weight. His wounds had healed, but Draco could see the pain in his eyes. He saw the same look in his own whenever he passed a mirror.  
“Harry.” Draco said, gesturing for him to sit across from the desk in the plush green and silver damask armchair. “It's good to see you.”  
The words felt forced, like he was trying to read from some script. But it _was_ good to see him.  
“You said to come visit if it got to be too much.” Harry said, his hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly.  
“I did. And you're more than welcome here.” Draco said, sighing heavily. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose hard, his head throbbing. “Sorry, it's not you I'm just…”  
“Tired?” Harry asked. “Me too.”  
“Mother's been trying to force pick-me-ups down my throat nearly every day since the battle.” Draco sighed, leaning back in his chair and forcing his shoulders to go slack. “I haven't the heart to tell her that they've lost all effect on me since sixth year.  
“I know what you mean.” Harry smirked. “Its post traumatic stress disorder, you know? That's what the muggle doctors say.”  
“I don't suppose the muggles have a cure, do they?”  
“No.” Harry smirked. “But they do have drugs.”  
“Potions, you mean? Anything better than pick-me-up?” Draco's eyebrow arched, intrigued.  
“I wouldn't say better.” Harry riffled through his pocket, extending a small orange vial filled with little white pills. He offered Draco one across the desk, tapping the side of the bottle against his hand. “They help.”  
Draco stood and crossed the room towards the small beverage cart. He poured himself a glass of water and popped the pill in his mouth.  
“Drink?” He asked, already pouring two glasses of firewhiskey.  
“Please.” Harry took the offered glass, turning it so the bright amber liquid caught the firelight, glinting off of the Malfoy family crest. Draco leaned against the cart, taking a sip and watching Harry over the rim of his glass. Harry caught Draco's gaze and lifted his glass in a toast. “To…”  
“To old rivals.” Draco said, leaning forward to tap his glass against Harry's.  
They drank in companionable silence, watching the flames in the fireplace. Draco stole a glance at Harry, and saw that the hand holding his glass was shaking and his eyelids were drooping.  
“You're exhausted.” Draco drawled, the muggle pill and firewhiskey doing their jobs.  
“Extremely.” Harry ran a hand over his hair. “We...we buried Colin today.”  
Draco nodded. He had seen the announcement for the funeral in the Prophet. He hadn't known the Gryffindor well, and hadn't attended the funeral. He remembered that Creevy had been close to Potter. He had been so young…  
“I was miserable to him.” Harry muttered, sipping his firewhiskey. “He looked up to me and I treated him…”  
“You were a child.” Draco said gently. “You didn't know any better.”  
“I knew better than most.” Harry snorted.  
“True.” Draco smiled. “I'm sure that if you can forgive me for my behavior during our school years, than Creevy forgives you.”  
“Damn, Malfoy.” Harry half-groaned with laughter. “Who said I forgave you?”  
“I wouldn't forgive me either.” Draco chuckled, sipping his firewhiskey.  
“Life's too short...” Harry murmured. He drained his cup and leaned his head back against the armchair.  
“There's a guest room if you'd like to stay the night?” Draco offered. “You need the rest.”  
“No, I should get back to the Burrow…” Harry said, grimacing with guilt. “Ginny needs me…”  
The Weasleys had buried their son a week ago. Draco had seen Harry at that funeral, comforting Ginny Weasley, her eyes red-rimmed. He felt a pang of loss, though it had nothing to do with Fred.  
“It's…” Harry swallowed, leaning forward to look at Draco intently. His eyes were slightly unfocused, and iridescently green in the firelight. Draco felt his breath catch and reached forward to take the glass from Harry's hand to cover his sudden nervousness. He poured another glass, sloshing the whiskey over his fingers. He handed the glass back to Harry, their fingertips brushing momentarily. Draco turned his face away quickly, clearing his throat.  
“You were saying?” Draco said, forcing his voice to remain steady.  
“I just...it's so hard. They lost a brother, a son…” Harry’s shoulders drooped. “I want to be there for them, to be strong for Ginny, for Ron...I didn't lose my family, my family is already dead. I don't even know how to comfort them.”  
Draco watched the emotions warring across Harry's face.  
“That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say, Potter.” Draco snapped, his temper flaring.  
“It's true though, isn't it?” Harry said. “I've lost friends, close friends. But I don't know what it's like to lose family.”  
“Sure you do.” Draco slammed his glass down on the cart, surprised that it didn't shatter in his hands. “Don't dismiss their loss or your pain just because they weren't related to you by blood. You forget, I saw you at Professor Lupin's funeral. I saw the pain on your face, Potter.”  
“I didn't see you at Remus's funeral.” Harry said with surprise.  
“Well it was packed with students.” Draco said.  
“Remus would have been shocked. He never would have felt he deserved such a huge ordeal.” Harry drank deeply. “He would've said they were all there for Tonks, not him.”  
“He was a favorite professor, and a good man.” Draco said softly.  
“Thank you.” Harry said, meeting Draco's eyes.  
“Anytime, Potter.” Draco smirked.  
“I never thought I would hear a Malfoy arguing for the ties of friendship over blood.” Harry said, leaning back in his chair.  
Draco poured himself another glass, and went to stand in front of the fire. There was a large blank space over the mantel where a portrait had hung. It was gone now.  
“I see things differently now.” Draco murmured. He heard Harry stand, his footsteps against the wood floor. Harry stopped at his side, his new wand in hand. He flicked it, whispering a charm, and blue flames shot out, swirling with the fire in the hearth, forming lions and serpents, unicorns, and badgers, eagles, and thestrals, and dragons all dancing among the flames. Harry put away his wand, lost in thought. Draco smiled, watching the creatures leaping about until the spell faded. He didn't know when Harry had grabbed his hand, but he felt it then, their fingers intertwined. He took a long draw on his whiskey, his cheeks flushed red.  
“Harry.” He said, terrified to look the other wizard in the eyes. “You don't have to be the strong one here. Not for me.”  
“I do though, don't I?” Harry said softly, topping back his glass and draining it before saying. “I'm the Famous Mr. Potter. I can't be weak, I can't show how...how exhausted, how angry, how absolutely used up I am.”  
“Not here.” Draco said. “Never here. Here you're just...you're just Harry.”  
Harry did look at him then, searching Draco's grey eyes for some trick, some catch. He reflexively reached for his wand, dropping Draco's hand, and then he caught himself, realized he was bracing himself for an attack that wouldn't come. Draco didn't even have his wand, it was sitting on the desk, out of reach.  
“It's...difficult.” Harry said, turning away before Draco could see the tears that threatened to fall.  
“That's alright.” Draco took their empty glasses and set them on the mantel. His hands were shaking. It was now, or never. And Draco was done choosing the wrong path. He turned to Harry, eyes glinting steel, and gathered all the broken pieces of the Boy Who Lived in his arms. They were both shattered, and held together with string, ragged edges and dark bruises. But maybe, even if for just tonight, they'd fit those broken pieces back together again.  
Their lips, sweetened with whiskey, met. Draco had wondered what it would be like if they ever kissed. Would it be desperate, hunger, clinging to each other. Or more likely passionate and tinged with anger, their teeth clashing against each other, biting lips, drawing blood. But this kiss was hesitant, tinged with guilt. Harry’s hands had come to rest on Draco's hips, but he was holding back. Draco was not at all surprised when Harry broke away, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead.  
“I'm-” Draco swallowed, his lips throbbing from the kiss. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…”  
“No, it's fine.” Harry waved a hand at him. He crossed the room, dropping into the armchair.  
“No, that was out line.” Draco's stomach flipped painfully. A long silence stretched between them with nothing but the soft crackle and pop of the fire.  
“We aren't dating, you know.” Harry said, finally. “Ginny and I.”  
Draco made a strangled sound in his throat, wanting to tell Harry he didn't need, didn't want to hear about his relationship with Ginny Weasley. He should have known better. Harry had been sweet on her for months, if not years. They were perfect for one another. And Draco was just his childhood rival, the son of a known Death Eater. Hell, a Death Eater himself for all intents and purposes. The scars on his left arm itched and he resisted the urge to touch them.  
“We broke up before the Battle.” Harry continued. “We...we'll probably get back together, when she's had time to mourn for Fred.”  
“I understand.” Draco said, another apology on his lips.  
“Don't apologize.” Harry shook his head. “There's nothing to apologize for. I just….”  
“You just care too deeply for everyone else, and never do what you want, Potter.” Draco smiled. “It's a wonder you didn't end up in Hufflepuff.”  
“The Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin.” Harry chuckled. “Did you know that?”  
“I didn't.” Draco smiled, imagining Harry in robes trimmed in silver and green. “I don't think I would have been able to keep my hands off of you.”  
Harry smiled sadly.  
“How long?” he asked. “How did I never know?”  
“Ha!” Draco's laugh was sharp. “As if I would have ever let you know I had a crush on you. I do have my pride, Potter.”  
He crossed the room, placing his knee between Harry's and leaning forward. He looked down into those deep, glittering green eyes. His heart skipped a beat.  
“Draco.” Harry brushed his hand along Draco's cheek. “I can't say that I don't want...this. But I don't want to hurt you. Nothing can come of it.”  
“Then let it be tonight only.” Draco murmured against Harry's lips. “Go back to Ginny Weasley in the morning and never spare me a second thought. I'd be fine with just tonight..”  
“Draco.” Harry sighed, his eyes half closed.  
“Come now, Potter.” Draco said, his fingers already undoing the buttons to his shirt. The fabric fell away and Harry's gaze drifted over the scarred Dark Mark, the scars left by his Sectumsempra curse. “What's one more scar among friends?”


End file.
